It is hard for me to let go. Sometimes, I just want to spill everything inside of me on the floor in a mess of memories and pain and sadness and maybe some happy times. I don’t remember happy times.
It’s just incredibly frustrating to not have anyone understand. I was sexually abused, I was hit, I was forced to do things no child should ever do. I knew the intricate details of my parent’s sex lives when I was seven.
The days are coming more and more where the only thing I want to do is stand over an overpass and let myself fall.